Against the Ape King
by Dorminchu
Summary: Spyro's final confrontation with Gaul.
1. The Ape King

Spyro touched down in the chamber. The purple column of energy in the center of the room commanded his full attention. He did not catch Sparx's comment. But this was short lived; dark, rough laughter erupted from a corner of the room. Spyro turned.

Green fires lit up in a rapid sequence, illuminating the group of Apes, and the monstrous creature residing upon the throne.

"Ah...The purple whelpling has come at last." The Ape King shifted forward in his seat; the better to look at him, Spyro thought. Gaul was much more frightening in reality than the dragon had anticipated him to be, dwarfing the Apes at his side in size and strength, clad in armor that was as ancient as his stench. In his right claw, he brandished a staff. Two eyes fixed upon him, one black, one green, both glinting cruelly in the unnatural darkness. "It's fitting that you should be here tonight, to bear witness to the dawn of a new age, and the failure of your pathetic race of dragons."

"I wouldn't miss it, Gaul." The ape's lips curled, baring teeth, gleaming with saliva.

"Of course you would not. You have certainly made a mess of my army, whelp. I will not discredit your power. But, as I cannot have you running amok on this night..." He raised the staff. A jet of green lightning exploded from the tip of the crystal and enveloped him. There was no pain, but instantly, Spyro felt the power of the elements drain from his body. Gaul cackled. "Foolish dragon! You are no match."

Spyro's limbs felt heavy, his mind clouded. He could no longer think as the Guardians had instructed him. But Spyro knew he could not show weakness. He forced himself to meet the Ape King's eyes.

"I've made it this far, haven't I?"

"You have proven to be quite elusive. If I had known that all it would take was a simple Siphoning Spell, and your miserable amity for Cynder..." Spyro saw the black shape move fast, too fast for him to react in time. The shadowy creature hit him and the two dragons were tangled up in each other briefly before Cynder eased off, blue eyes narrowed to slits. "Tragic, really, that _she_ would be the one to destroy you."

"Aah! The nightmare never ends!" Sparx shrieked from within the clutches of one of Gaul's hench-monkeys.

"Just like old times, huh Spyro?" Cynder called out.

Spyro winced. Every breath was labored, every thought was exhausting. But he stood to face her. "Cynder...you don't have to do this."

Then Cynder did something unexpected; she locked her eyes with his, hissed, "I know. Line me up with his staff." They circled each other, slowly, waiting for just the right moment and...

_Now!_

Spyro reared up as if to strike her, the quickly dove aside as Cynder rushed forwards and leapt into the air. One moment she was flying straight at Gaul, the next, he'd caught her smoothly in an enormous paw.

"Defy us, will you?" He growled. "Then you may be the first to join him in oblivion." And he cast her across the room. She crashed to the stone and did not move. Spyro watched in horror. A cascade of gibberish caught his attention; the other Apes were advancing.

"Do not touch him!" Gaul snarled. "The whelpling is _mine_."

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_A/N: A three-part tale! First attempt at fantasy. Let me know what you thought, if you want. :)_


	2. The Battle Commences

"Do not touch him!" Gaul snarled. "The whelpling is _mine_."

The Ape King jumped from the plinth of his throne with surprising agility, and hit the stone with a thunderous crash. The force of the impact sent a shock through Spyro. His instinct kicked in; he regained his stance, teeth bared. He had to be ready to fight.

But as Gaul straightened up, Spyro could not help the hopelessness that consumed him. In his compromised state, he was practically a joke to such a powerful opponent. He had only tooth and claw, and his smaller stature, though difficult to get hold of, was not without its limits. Even a single blow could be lethal.

He would have to dodge every one of Gaul's attacks, without fail.

The Ape King roared and advanced, brandishing twin blades that were worn with age, nearly as tall as their wielder. The two contesters circled each other while the other Ape soldiers howled their lust for blood. Spyro was reminded inexplicably of the Skavengers and their coliseum.

Then Gaul rushed at him. Spyro dove to the side and bolted, used the momentum to take to the air, wings beating frantically. One blade whistled, cleaving through the air where his head had been seconds ago. He flew blindly at first, wrought with fear, then quickly regained his courage and made a beeline for a particularly ugly gargoyle situated high on the wall above Gaul's throne, latching onto it gratefully.

The Ape King chuckled, looking to the direction Spyro had fled from. "You cannot hide from me, dragon!" His reproach was joined by hooting laughter.

Upon hearing this remark, Spyro felt his spirits rise slightly; he had the advantage. From his temporary perch within the shadows, he surveyed the throne room.

Five iron braziers were placed around the circumference of the chamber, illuminated by green fire. The aura from Gaul's attacks was of the same color. The Chronicler had mentioned a connection between Dragon magic and the artificial variety the Apes mined from the gems. Perhaps knocking this source of magic out was the key to victory?

_Only one way to find out..._

Spyro swooped down from his resting place, head lowered, aiming for the nearest brazier. He struck its underside with his horns. The iron cracked as it was hit and tipped, careening over the edge into the abyss below.

Spyro heard Gaul's bellow of fury. Without a moment to lose, he whirled around and charged towards the next one, upending it in a similar fashion.

_Two down, three to go!_

But as he dashed towards his third brazier, Spyro felt it; an overwhelming sense of dread. Then the very air before him rippled, like a shallow pool disturbed by the casting of a stone. As he watched, hesitating, the ripples turned golden, crackling with energy.

In a flash the Ape King was looming over him, weapons raised, mouth open in a snarl. His breath smelt of death.

Spyro gasped, and in that instant, he recalled his final advantage.

Time.

_"Use this gift sparingly, only when circumstances demand. Manipulation of time is not to be done without the utmost care."_

He closed his eyes and concentrated. He could sense Gaul's weapons coming down, and he bent the very moment between life and certain death to his will. Every second was his. The world slowed, pulling against him like a raging current. He let it take him and ducked beneath the Ape King, leapt forward and sank teeth and claws into a spot in his torso where heavy iron armor failed to conceal flesh.

Gaul's howl of agony and rage was distorted by the effects of Dragon Time, low and exaggerated as he spun around, trying in vain to tear the purple dragon from his body. Spyro flattened himself against the flailing Ape King and held on for dear life as they wheeled around. The twin swords impacted the stone with two, successive _crack_s and the two creatures toppled to the floor.

And to Spyro's horror, time returned to its natural flow. It became a blur, then: one second, Spyro was still latched onto Gaul's bloody form, the next, a discharge of elemental energy forced him to release his hold on the Ape King, taking copious amounts of inky blood with him. Then Gaul had him, trapped in a paw nearly as big as he was, and brought him back to earth.

Spyro choked out a gasp, tried to scream in pain, in defiance, but the very air was crushed from his lungs. The Ape King loomed over him, bestial features twisted into a visage of rage and indignation.

"You cannot win!" he roared. "The Night of Eternal Darkness is upon us! Your time is over, Dragon!"

He did not retrieve his blade, instead raising an armored hand, indicating the pillar of energy in the chamber. As Spyro watched, a new surge of energy ran down the purple beam, far more powerful than it had been when he had first touched down in the chamber. Gaul turned back to him.

How would he kill him, then, Spyro wondered. Crush his skull? Tear out his throat? He tried valiantly to summon even a spark of electricity, a draft of icy wind. But the power of the elements had long since left him.

He'd been so close to victory. Spyro nearly wept with the cruelty of it all.

_I'm sorry, Cynder, Ignitus...everyone. I've failed._

But the killing blow never came.

The Ape King's cry of surprise was drowned by a deafening rumble as the floor beneath them gave way. They flew apart under gravity's force, met the final tier of stone below. Spyro did not fall unconscious. Dazed, he was only vaguely aware of his collision, then a deeper _crack_, presumably from Gaul's landing. So exhausted, so disheartened was he by his failure that he did not even protest as the beam of dark energy swept him up into its field.

The effect was immediate. All his pain, all his grief melted away, replaced with an emptiness; but this was a different kind of peace. Spyro panicked, unable to think of anything besides the idea that something was terribly wrong. And a power invaded him, overwhelming, cold and cruel and undeniable. The smell of papyrus, of smoke and fire, of ash and rotting corpses, of power, raw power. The gems were nothing, Fury was nothing, the elements and Guardians and Gaul and Cynder herself were _nothing_.

_**It has been too long.**_

Spyro already knew who it was, and wondered, in the final moments before he was overtaken, if this was what Cynder had felt.

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_A/N: Dun dun DUNN! The true final_ _battle is what's coming up next time! Read and review?_


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